Broken Circle
by musrreborn
Summary: The tale of Yoshimitsu's pursuit of the Soul Edge in a desperate tournament where lives are at stake. Who or what is the Broken Circle? (Rating for violence, sensuality, possible language.)
1. Prologue: River, Cloud, Curtain

I don't own Soul Calibur, its characters, anything. I don't even own the game! All I own is this feeble excuse for a fanfic. Enjoy!

Prologue: River, Cloud, Curtain.

_The Soul Edge can be yours. Follow our instructions. There will be bloodshed._

Yoshimitsu sat, unmoving, the scrap of paper lying in his lap. His sword was lying next to him, sheathed, and to any onlookers it would appear as though his gaunt figure was that of a samurai who had been honored in life, now adorned in full armor, masked and flagged, ready for the funeral pyre. He sat deep in the void of himself, meditating and awaiting. Already he had learned what the writers of the note intended for all of them: a bloody, to-the-death tournament for control of the weapon they all sought for good or for evil.

Already the sword had corrupted the life of the man known as Siegfried. Could it be allowed to do so again? Yoshimitsu sought the Soul Edge for the same reasons as many of his competitors did – to destroy it. But he was unsure. It was a demon weapon, that was for certain – a blade of the _oni_. Once he possessed it, how sure could he be that it would not possess him?

A river of grass. A cloud of wind. A curtain of birds. The familiar images recurred in his mind, blocking out all thought. He was at one with the world and the world was at one with him. He was no longer Yoshimitsu, but rather particles of his former self, scattered through the void, yearning and seeking, ever desiring, because desire was the root of suffering. The river desired fullness, the cloud, emptiness, and the curtain, nothingness. Only the void was without desire, and only the void was without suffering. A sound pierced the void, like glass pebbles thrown at the sun. It echoed dismally, and then receded. But it was enough to bring Yoshimitsu out of the void, for he knew his ally had arrived. The curtain parted, the cloud dispersed, and the river dried: Yoshimitsu returned to himself and the void coalesced, spiraling into a thimble of everness.

Yoshimitsu nodded as his senses swirled into refocus. "You come bearing news, do you not?" he asked. Behind him, a slight scraping noise and a rasp emanated. Yoshimitsu had sensed this man's suffering instantly. He was bound mouth and eyes, only able to hear. But Yoshimitsu harbored no illusions about the man he had taken as his ally. He sought the Soul Edge as well, and in a moment's notice he would betray Yoshimitsu to obtain it. But it was better to have a source of information as well as a potential ally, for the time being, and so they cooperated. "Speak to me. Sing to my soul," Yoshimitsu commanded, and summoned up the litany again in his mind. The river. The cloud. The curtain. The void. He passed into semiawareness, hovering, and then plummeted into the depths.

Voldo inclined himself towards the barely breathing samurai. Hissing around his mouthbind, he spoke to Yoshimitsu, his noises skittering across the surface of the void, dropping like molten teardrops into a bonfire. The samurai's soul opened, madly swirling, and Voldo grasped it in both hands, spreading the covers of the man's awareness, and he read what was written there. And he wrote.

+

Coming next: Chapter One: The Circle Opens.


	2. Chapter One: The Circle Opens

I don't own Soul Calibur, its characters, anything. I don't even own a copy of the game! All I own is this feeble excuse for a fanfic. Enjoy!

Chapter One: The Circle Opens.

_Taki. Kaminoi Castle. This is the first step._

Walking slowly into the courtyard of the beautiful abandoned castle, footsteps echoing eerily, Yoshimitsu reflected on the note Voldo had brought him. It had a curious kind of signature, approximating a line that intersected itself and formed a small circle with two points sticking out diagonally from the topmost point of the circle. Voldo had vowed to seek out more information on the senders of the notes, and had promptly disappeared. It was just as well. Yoshimitsu felt fear, revulsion, and pity when he looked upon Voldo, but mostly fear. The man – or creature, whatever he could be called now – was clearly insane. What's more, Yoshimitsu knew all too well that Voldo sought the Soul Edge for his own purposes. Maybe Voldo served him willingly now, but as soon as the sword was anywhere near his grasp…Yoshimitsu doubted that his vassal would harbor any compunction about betraying his master.

They said ghosts inhabited this castle. Well, Yoshimitsu could find no ghosts, and Taki was nowhere to be found either. Ghost tales did not scare Yoshimitsu, however. After all, he had been called a ghost multitudes of times. The ninja girl was wily, however, and Yoshimitsu resolved to be on his guard. In the meantime, he folded his legs solemnly, laying his sword in his lap, and summoned the litany that always ran quietly in the back of his head to his vision. The wind caressed a river of grass, swaying in the breeze, whispering ancient secrets. The birds shaped a cloud of wind, suspended in eternal dewiness, glistening. The grass gave life to a curtain of birds, shimmering in the sky, concealing existence from view. Yoshimitsu was alone in the void once more, reveling in the loss of himself to the greater nothingness. And then an eye opened.

**Yoshimitsu.**

Pain shivered through Yoshimitsu's meditating form. With a shock, the ninja was torn back into himself, wavering, on the verge of nothingness. The void remained, but for the first time, Yoshimitsu found himself as a single consciousness within it. It was eerily quiet here, dark, and ominous. A light shone upon him, but he could not tell from where. A glowing eye hovered before him, glaring with crimson malevolence and golden hatred.

**Yoshimitsu, attend us.**

The dark voice spoke again from behind the ninja, sounding like a dying man's last gasp and like blood spurting from a fatal wound. It sounded like dried leaves crackling before the hearth. It sounded like doom. Spasms took Yoshimitsu's barely breathing body, the body of a man lost within himself.

**Yoshimitsu, the time comes. Seek us. We have chosen you.**

A drop of blood trickled slowly through the eyepiece of the outer Yoshimitsu's mask, but the inner Yoshimitsu felt nothing save an overwhelming desire to obey. "Where can I find you?" he called querulously into the void. "What are you?" But the eye gave no answer. It seemed to encompass the void momentarily, so that Yoshimitsu felt a staggering sensation that he and the rest of existence were nothing but a mote in this great dark eye, and then it was gone. Distinctly shaken, Yoshimitsu took a moment to gather himself, and it was then that he realized it.

Noise and light streaked across the void. Flashing blades. A red glow rose to the east, blazing forward and reaching Yoshimitsu at an alarming rate. He could tell he was under attack. Instinctively he dropped out of the void, hearing but not feeling his meditative state shatter around him, and swung his sword, still sheathed, from his lap. With an almighty clang, his scabbard impacted steel, and he felt his attacker go tumbling backwards, landing hard on the cobblestones of the Kaminoi castle with only heaps of cherry blossoms to cushion her fall. Yoshimitsu leapt to his feet, dodging the kick Taki threw at him as she bounded back to her feet, and swung his blade. The ninja barely managed to evade his overhand strike, and she rolled back away from him, popping up into a standing position and holding her blade at the ready.

"You understand it had to be this way," she said, circling warily. Her voice was a harsh sound, like a raven's caw. She had been beautiful once, so much younger and more innocent, with pretty, wide eyes above the red veil she had borne. The period of time since their last meeting had aged her, and she had abandoned the veil, baring herself defiantly to the world. "It's all fair now," she continued. "We all need that sword."

"I understand your need, Taki," Yoshimitsu said slowly, circling in response to her maneuver. "I see your desire. It burns within you and consumes you." Taki said nothing, her mouth pressed to a thin hard line, making quick sidesteps. "Desire fuels suffering, Taki. It is the root of all pain in the world. The sword feeds upon the desire in you until you are its slave, and then it will destroy your soul and you will be lost forever."

"Yeah?" Taki sneered. "What about you, then, mystic man? What are you doing here, if not seeking the sword? Are you telling me you are without desire?"

"Why," Yoshimitsu answered, grinning inside his mask, "I was only meditating here, a simple ascetic seeking enlightenment when I was attacked."

Taki's eyes widened. "You _liar_!" she cried, and threw herself towards him, swinging viciously. He parried her blow, swung horizontally, and stepped over her low sweeping kick as she ducked under his strike. Seizing the opportunity, he bashed his sword hilt into her forehead, although it was a weak glancing blow since she was already attempting to roll away from him. Momentarily dazed, Taki slumped to the ground, blood trickling down between her eyes, and then she backflipped to a standing position as Yoshimitsu brought his sword down where her neck had been seconds before.

Defiantly, she spat on her palm and wiped her forehead, mopping away blood and inadvertently smearing a rusty redness into her hair. "Nice try, you ancient relic!" she snarled, circling anxiously.

Yoshimitsu ignored her comment and pressed on, "Have I conquered desire? Only the Illustrious One has done so. But I try, Taki. Do you see my mask?" Yoshimitsu followed her circular patterns, trying to make eye contact. His mask had three faces, one facing forward that covered his own face directly, one perpendicular to his head, and one on the back of his head. "One face," Yoshimitsu continued, speaking of the skeleton face that adorned the back of his mask, "represents the first of the Noble Truths: there is suffering in the world, Taki. The skeleton cries out for relief from his suffering! He represents all of us."

Taki beared her teeth and hissed at him, and he couldn't resist a silent chuckle. This girl was outmatched. She had been a fool to think she could defeat Yoshimitsu. "The next, the one that I bear facing forward, represents the second Noble Truth: that desire is the root of suffering. Do you see the _oni_ face I wear? They say the _oni_ were once ancestral spirits that began to thirst for life and blood, for death and destruction. Their desire twisted them into monstrosities. That will be your fate, Taki."

The girl laughed cruelly at him, but he could sense false bravado in her heart. She was scared, and he was unnerving her further. "The last face, Taki," he said, "represents the fourth Noble Truth: the eightfold path is the True Way. This is the face of the Illustrious One, smiling, happy, and at peace with himself."

"And the third Noble Truth?" Taki asked through gritted teeth, watching his every movement, hoping for a misstep.

"That is the blank face of my mask, Taki, for it represents the struggle that all of us must make on our own, against our own desire. The third Noble Truth is that there can be an end to suffering. How do we end our suffering? By ending our desire! Only then can we become whole and peaceful."

With that, Taki lunged at him, screaming shrilly. He sidestepped her attack, landing a heavy kick to her side that sent her spiraling through the air. She recovered in midair, landing on her feet, and flipped towards him, catching his chestplate with her foot. He brought his sword up and across her, and she shrieked, staggering away from him. Blood dripped from her bosom to the cold cobblestones of Kaminoi, a deeper red staining her clothing.

Taki shrieked to the sky, blood trickling from her chest. "You bastard!" she cried. "I'll end _your_ desire – but not your suffering!" With that, she tore towards him, coming in low. Yoshimitsu had only a split second to respond. He gathered himself and tried to conjure up the void, tried to let a river flow through him and a cloud envelop him. Birds swirled like the falling cherry blossoms in Kaminoi Castle, the curtain was swept aside, and Yoshimitsu was pulled into everness.

The world was a deep purple. Clocks hurtled through the air, ticking wildly, some of them keening and howling, enormous boulders rose randomly out of the ground and flew through the air like reverse meteorites, and Yoshimitsu's footsteps left depressions in the spongy ground beneath him. This place was one few had ever seen. Yoshimitsu's master, whose name had been long forgotten and who Yoshimitsu had only ever known as the Black Dragonfly, had called it "everness." He said there were three physical worlds, and although we only live in one, those with the skill could make excursions to the other two. The worlds had different degrees of physicality, however. The last one, the void (also known as "nothingness") was the least physical. The "real" world, what the Black Dragonfly had called "truthfulness," was the most physical world. Everness was a twisted form of truthfulness, and changes made in everness would reflect on our world. That was how the teleporting discipline had developed.

Yoshimitsu's opponents had no idea how difficult it was – all they saw was Yoshimitsu spinning into invisibility and then reappearing elsewhere, all in a split second. In reality, though, he had dropped out of existence and entered everness, and was physically moving himself to a different place in our world. It was a dangerous journey, only to be managed by those truly skilled. Sometimes those split-second teleports took half an hour of Yoshimitsu's life. He had never really understood whether the time he spent in everness reflected on his life in our world, what was called "truthfulness." Did he age based on his time spent slogging through everness? He suspected that he did. But now it was time – Yoshimitsu swept the curtain of birds back into its proper place, the cloud dematerialized from around him and the river flowed out of his heart, and he tore into our world, right behind Taki. He dealt a massive kick to her unprotected back, sending her sprawling to the floor. She cracked her chin hard on the cobblestones, spitting up blood, and cried out. The battle was over.

Yoshimitsu stood above her, looking upon his vanquished foe. She rolled over onto her back, stunned, lower face covered in blood that reminded Yoshimitsu of the veil she had once worn, four years ago. Blood still trickled weakly from the swell of her breast, pooling with that from her chin and staining the cherry blossoms a swollen crimson. Yoshimitsu knew he had to kill her, this time. Voldo had told him that the battles were to be to the death, or else he would be disqualified. He tried to convince himself that he was doing her a favor, that her body might disperse but that her _atman_ – her inner self – would live on and be reincarnated. Finally, Yoshimitsu raised his sword, point down. "_Namu amida butsu_," he intoned.

Taki cried out, "Spare me, whatever you are! Spare me and we can work together."

Yoshimitsu had resolved himself. His sword did not waver as he responded, "May you find mercy in your next life." His sword flashed. Blood spurted, splashing the _oni_ face of Yoshimitsu's mask. A rattling cry came, and then silence. The ninja wiped his sword upon Taki's thigh, murmured, "_Namu_," again, and walked out, leaving Taki to whatever ghosts lived in the castle. Voldo would have to be notified, and this mysterious "circle" informed. His first battle was over.

No ghosts came for Taki, but she was not alone.

Coming next: Chapter Two, Whispers.


End file.
